Lady Summer
by AwesomePecan2
Summary: They had met in the summer. He had asked her out in the summer. He had proposed in the summer. They had married in the summer. They had been born in the summer.


**A/N: Yay, I finally finished this. I started it in – February? March? Anyway, I got sidetracked for a little while but I was pumped and eager the other day and so I decided, why not. And also, after much debating and inner-conflict, I decided on fem!Italy. And Ludwig might seem OOC, but I think it's pretty justifiable. Inspired by one of those warm days where you feel content and lazy. I love those days, they're so peaceful.**

**Details in profile.**

Lady Summer

Summer was a pleasant time of year when the days were not so stifling hot. Some days were bright with a light breeze rustling the trees and attempting to mess up Ludwig's perfect, slicked-back hair. And then there were days like today; where he would come home from work early and be ready to close his eyes.

Summer days like this were his favorite simply because they were so peaceful. They made a person feel like lazing around all day, doing nothing with their feet propped in the air and making their mind fuzzy. Since he was normally a disciplined and serious man, the notion of him being lazy would be preposterous and possibly apocalypse inducing. But days like these were rare, so he treasured them.

But he would rather do something else possibly apocalypse inducing than admit something utterly sentimental so it will be kept a secret; _shhh._

His house; a quaint two-story house painted white with a humble porch, with vines growing prettily up the right side of the house and around the pillars, came into view. The scent of the flowers and freshly cut grass drifted along with the breeze as it traveled to his senses.

He pulled into his drive-way carefully, shutting off the ignition and climbing out of his car, briefcase in hand as well as a bouquet of white and yellow flowers he had bought on a whim. The tall, well-built man with the expressionless face strode up to his porch, juggling his briefcase, the bouquet, and his keys until he finally was able to slide his key into the keyhole and push open the newly painted red door.

Ludwig breathed deeply, unconsciously relieved to be home, and so early that day too. All of the windows were open, lime-green curtains pulled back and allowing the sunlight to spill brightly into the foyer and living room and most likely all of the other rooms as well.

He set his briefcase down to the side of the small foyer, absently deciding not to travel all the way to his study and place it in its proper place. He kicked his shoes off and nudged them to the side, idly wondering when he picked up the traditional habit from his demure Japanese friend. He tossed his keys into the marble bowl on the small table adorned with a small wicker basket containing mail, instead of hanging them on one of the small hooks above it.

With another sigh, he made his way almost silently down the hall, peering quickly into the bright living room and then into the well-kept kitchen where he pulled out a pretty vase from a lower cabinet, filled it with water, and placed the flowers inside, setting them in the center of the table. He stood back, briefly admiring his work. He smiled softly, imagining the bright smile that would no doubt appear on his beloved's face at the 'just because' gift.

Ludwig trailed the tips of his fingers across the dark table-top, light smile playing on his lips as he did so, making him look years younger. His heavy feet thumped lightly as he all but glided in content through his kitchen, then down the brief hallway and up the shaggy carpeted stairs where they became muffled and once again consuming the house in a peaceful quiet.

Here, in this hallway, was where he paused. Like most of the house, it was painted a soft Bavarian cream; simple and clean. At the end of the hall stood a small, stained Italian table decorated with a bowl of potpourri resting on a white lace-mat. Hanging above that was an intricately bordered oval mirror in which he could see his reflection. His reflection would show him his tall, proud stature. It would show him his smooth, pale face with a strong jaw, high cheek-bones, and thin lips. It would reflect to him his blue eyes; sharp and clear as ice, and it would reflect to him his hair; soft and bright and yellow. _Just like lemonade_, a cheery voice would tell him serenely. But his reflection was not what made him pause.

No, that was not it, rather; it was the pictures that lined the walls on either side of him, all the way to the end. On his left were five: all of bright flowers in bloom, all skillfully painted and framed, all small but beautiful, and which would never fail to make his days warmer. Not even on his most trying or coldest of days.

On his right were photos wrapped in wrought-iron frames, designed to look fragile and antique. There were five, and as he moved forward once again, as he let his sight glide over them with an affectionate air, his chest warmed and his stomach fluttered with the memories that washed over him.

They had met in the summer. They were young, awkward, simple-minded youths with big dreams of success and glory and a happy, bright future ahead of them. _He was somewhat shocked and utterly baffled when she jumped out at him and snapped a picture weeks after they had met._

He had asked her out in the summer. Ludwig had – after much debating and inner-conflict, and even after many mistakes and stammering – finally mustered up the courage and squashed down his pride to do so. They stayed together; even after graduating and attending different colleges and enduring long weeks with the other's absence, with only phone-calls and emails to keep in touch. _He was blushing heavily and she was smiling brightly as she raised the camera and snapped a photo of them on their first date._

He had proposed in the summer. He knew, with no ounce of doubt or uncertainty in his mind, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He knew, with no ounce of doubt or uncertainty in his mind, that she wanted the same. And once again, even after many mistakes and stammering, he had finally mustered up the courage and squashed down his pride to do so. _He was smiling as brightly as she was when a friend, who had been hiding in the bushes, snapped a quick photo of such a glorious occasion._

They had married in the summer. He had stood at the altar, waiting nervously and glancing anxiously at the priest that stood next to him, who kept smiling _knowingly_ at him. And then everyone stood, and the music started, and his throat went dry and he thought if his heart beat too fast he might faint. Beautiful. She was so beautiful. _This time Ludwig had been ready as he stood proud and happy next to his new wife, as a professional photographer snapped the photo._

And then the last photo at the end of the hall.

Ludwig smiled softly, radiantly as he let his eyes linger on this photo; his favorite photo. He turned into his and his wife's room at the end of the hall on the left. He peeled off his socks, tossing them in the hamper. He undid his belt and shimmied out of his pants, draping them over the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged it off his shoulders and placed it over his pants. He stretched his arms out in front of him, clad only in grey boxers, a black tank-top, and his iron cross hanging around his neck. He ran his hands through his hair, finally messing it up. It felt nice to let it go.

He left the room and found himself simply looking over the slightly ajar door across from their room. He let his eyes trace over the white door painted with flowers and butterflies. He listened to the near silent music playing softly from the other side. He pushed the door open, as silently as he could.

This room was bright and gentle. The walls were painted a soft-green color with more splashes of flowers and butterflies scattered tastefully about the room. And across from him stood two white cribs, separated only by a small, white nightstand on which stood a lamp, a few books and the stereo emitting the soothing melody. He stepped into the room, padded his way silently to the two cribs, and peered into each one, smiling warmly at his two baby girls.

They had been born in the summer. He remembered the trying nine months and the agony of having to wait in the lobby of the hospital because he had not been allowed back in to the birthing room. He remembered pacing. He remembered his brother and his sister-in-law laughing or yelling at him to calm down. He remembered feeling anxious and scared when the doctor finally emerged. He remembered, after the man in white had informed him of a successful delivery and had asked him if he would like to see his _daughters,_ how surreal it had felt. It had felt like a dream as he entered his wife's hospital room and saw her sleeping peacefully, finally rid of her precious burden. It had felt like a dream to look beyond the glass with the other new mothers and fathers and uncles and aunts and grandparents, and he remembered that his girls were the most beautiful little things he had ever seen, more beautiful than all the other crying or sleeping infants beyond the glass. _He sat with his wife on her hospital bed, each of them holding and gazing adoringly at their children, both paying no heed to the numerous snapping of photos._

Ludwig sighed, kissed the tips of his fingers and grazed them over their soft heads, and rounded the crib. As gently as he could, he crawled onto the bed they had placed into the room, now where Felicia was sleeping in one of his too-long, white tank-tops, her tan skin glowing in the sunbeams streaming through the curtains. He relaxed next to her, breathing out heavily through his nose, and he let her shift and bury her face into his chest, smiling contentedly in her sleep.

Summer was a pleasant time of year when the days were not so stifling hot. Some days were bright, with a light breeze rustling the trees and attempting to mess up Ludwig's perfect, slicked-back hair. And then there were days like today; where he would come home from work early and be ready to close his eyes.

Summer days like this were his favorite simply because they were so peaceful. They made a person feel like lazing around all day, doing nothing with their feet propped in the air and making their mind fuzzy.

Summer was his favorite season, simply because she had given him so much.

**XxXxXx**

**A/N: So yeah, it wasn't supposed to be this long but the story just kinda ran away from me. I feel like I got carried away in a lot of parts and I don't know if it's too much unnecessary information. But considering I'm posting it anyway, even after doing my best to edit and change things, I guess I must think it's not that bad?**

**And yeah, please don't be mad at my decision of a fem!Italy. I just thought it would be cute if, in the future, Ludwig would be completely whipped and ruled by a bunch of girls, heh. I adore the idea of a 'daddy and his ladies' (wife and daughter(s) of course , for those of you who would take it outta context).**

**So now that that's outta the way, please, **_**please**_**, **_**please**_** review. I would definitely **_**really**_** appreciate criticism and/or reassurance on this one.**


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